


Skirt

by p_totel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Crossdressing, Domestic Violence, M/M, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_totel/pseuds/p_totel
Summary: Theon and Ramsay run into Sansa while shopping.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Skirt

„Are you done?“

A stiffled, nervous whimper came behind the curtain of a dressing cabin in a shopping mall. Signifying that, whoever it was, was absolutely nowhere near ready to step out.

„R-Ramsay, please- please don't- don't make me-.“ The voice broke, interrupted with hiccups and sobs. The curtains ruffled again.

„I'm sure it looks great on you.“ Ramsay sighed, a lazy smile on his lips as he intently stared at the cabin. „You aren't fat, come on. Is that what you are worried about?“

The voice behind the curtain went silent.

„N-no.“

„Is it being too thin then? Get out and let's go, I'll buy you a burger or something.“ If he can even chew it. Ramsay broke his tooth three nights ago when he trashed him against the bed drawer. It wasn't even _intentional_. But it was true, he could probably stand to feed him more often.

„Ramsay-.“

„Say my name one more time and you'll wish you hadn't.“

„Plea-.“

„And you know how I feel about that word too.“

The intense silence filled the space. Sure, other customers ruffled and walked around the store, picking up various items and checking them out, chatting and commenting on the clothes. But to Theon it felt like the entire world belonged in that bubble between him and Ramsay, the curtain being only thing separating them.

His knuckles trembled as he finally pushed his head out the curtain, his eyes red, looking left and right.

Ramsay gave him a pleased smile; the smile which made Theon feel like some amusing dog and not an actual human, and shook his head. „Good. Now whole body. I want to see it.“

Why couldn't he just wait until they were home? Why couldn't he step in the cabin and see it in there? It was a bit cramped but he could fit in-. But none of that was what Ramsay wanted. No. It wouldn't be him without a spectacle, Theon bitterly thought, biting his lip in desperation and trying not to let tears flow again.

Finally he removed the curtain and took a tiny step forwards, unraveling himself.

A short skirt hung around his hips.

„Ah.“ Ramsay's smile spread into a wide grin, showing off his unusually sharp canines. Like a dog that just saw a dinner being set up. „It looks great! Only I'm wondering – maybe we should get you a pink dress, not green. You know, Bolton pink. Stay put, I'll go get the cashier to ask for an opinion.“

Theon gripped the curtain, his eyes going wide in shock. No, no, no – let Ramsay take another tooth, leave another bruise, whatever, just not _that_. He held onto the fabric like it was the only thing keeping him on feet.

„Excuse me? Miss? Miss?“ Ramsay turned around and rose his hand, trying to invite a sale lady over. Theon would rather have him invite an undertaker. Was dying of shame or being skinned to death worse, he couldn't tell. Ramsay was waving his hand after the closest girl that worked there; a tall young woman with chestnut hair neatly tied into a ponytail.

„Yes. Right awa-„ the girl turned around with a smile.

And then the world crashed.

Theon stared at her, she stared back, her polite smile freezing on her lips.

All she could do was stare: Ramsay in a smug and relaxed posture, holding his jacket in his hands and a hollow-cheeked figure that reminded her of someone. Someone very different than the man who seemed to stand there with eyes red from crying and full of desperation.

„Theon?“ she breathed out quietly.

And Theon just looked away, swallowing a huge sniffle.

„Oh. Fun. You know each other? Why didn't you tell me about this sweetheart? I would've invited her right away. When we were picking the color out in the first place.“ Ramsay's response was relaxed, tinted with some unexpected amusement.

„ _Sansa_.“ Was all Theon managed to choke out.

Ramsay turned his head more attentively to the girl who stood there, her pale lips spread open in surprise. He squinted his pale eyes like he was trying to remember something, figure out where he knew the girl from.

„Oh! Sansa. Stark, right?“ Ramsay suddenly sprung into action and held out his hand. Sansa mechanically put her up, still trying to digest what was going on in front of her.

„Ramsay. Bolton. I believe our fathers are acquainted, are they not? I think I've even been to Winterfell a few times. I've probably seen you from afar.“ He smiled as galantly as he could; oh, wasn't Ramsay a master at all that stupid courtesy, Theon bitterly thought as he watched his boyfriend mend the situation.

„Y-yeah.“ She moved her eyes away from Theon and to Ramsay. „Bolton? Then we must've dined together.“

„Well, no, not really. We didn't sit at the same table.“

„Oh.“ Sansa made the connection. „Then you must be Snow.“

She said it with a high note in her voice and Theon wished that an explosion would bring an entire mall down. The worst thing was anyone even mentioning that topic near Ramsay and even worse than the worst thing was _saying it like that_.

Ramsay gave her the most surpressed smile ever and Theon could read out of it he wanted to strangle Sansa in that exact spot with her long ponytail. Obviously, since he couldn't do that, he would probably just do it to Theon.

„Then you must've met Jon.“ Sansa delivered another nail in the coffin and Theon cringed. _No, Sansa, no, come on!_ This time it was unintentional; she was genuinely thinking she's straightening the wrong leg they got off on.

„ _Probably.“_ Ramsay's voice was pure serpent's poison as he grinned, thankfully putting in every single ounce of self control he had not to mess something up.

But that poison won Sansa over and she leaned over to him.

„I'm- Greyjoy- is he okay?“ she whispered. Yeah, of course she would ask that. Theon looked like he was ran over by a car and Sansa was oblivious enough not to add two and two together. She never liked him anyway, so what would she care if Ramsay really was hauling Theon left and right? Not like she would believe it anyway, ever having known the cocky and loud Theon Greyjoy. No, Theon wouldn't let someone hit his head against a cupboard or throw him in the darkness or lick their boots.

„Yeah, yeah.“ Ramsay lowered his voice and gently put a hand on her shoulder. „You know, he's a bit... well. You've known him since you were children, you know how he gets.“ He clicked his tongue and pointed at Theon who was intently staring at the ceiling in an attempt to astrally project away. „And there's also drugs, alcohol...“

Sansa just meekly nodded.

Ramsay sighed, like he was talking about a hospital patient. „And well, you see. He doesn't know when to stop, right, so, he got into a car...“ Ramsay continued whispering, looking a bit at the ground and a bit at the Stark girl.

Sansa just stared a Theon's bruised legs and a long, deep cut that sprawned over his entire calf, and a few 'X' marks engraved into it; and something that looked like a huge patch of skin was burnt away. She figured out the implication of Ramsay's flickering eyes; car accident. That seemed plausible.

„I had no trouble taking him off your hands, really.“ Ramsay sighed in a sympathetic voice, closing his eyes like a martyr. „I hope your brothers and old Ned caught a good break, right?“

„Well- me and mother certainly have.“ she said politely, smiling a bit.

 _Well good for you, Sansa,_ Theon bitterly thought. What, were they going to chat here now while he stood there? Stood there, in a miniskirt with snot on his chin from crying and his eyes stinging, for everyone to see while they casually catched up?

„Yes. Right, well, the question was,“ Ramsay coughed, deciding to bring back the matter on the hand, „if you have this skirt in different color? Maybe pink.“

Sansa simply stuttered. „I- I can look in the storage. But- I think- maybe, maybe you should try it on inside. He is... making other customers uncomfortable.“ She bit her lip as she turned around to look at ladies who gave weird looks in Theon's direction.

He failed to notice their murmuring while focused on the spectacle in front of himself, on Ramsay and Sansa. Somehow this made it even worse. He assumed that was exactly what Ramsay wanted, for him to be humiliated like this, and he knew Theon would obey; otherwise, Theon will be walking home in that skirt for the entire city to see and then – even worse – will be thrown into the closet to beg for Ramsay to come back. This was what he wanted. Snickers and comments and Theon's tears. Sansa kind of interrupted the idea, but Ramsay rolled with it anyway.

„Right. Yes. Thank you.“ Ramsay nodded, making them seem like they were in cahoots. Sansa nodded, giving Theon one last worried glance and moved away to the storage while Ramsay stayed. His face changed from a mocking galantly back to smug pleasentness.

„Oh come on, Theon. Sweetheart. You are a prettier girl than her, if it makes you feel better.“ He tilted his head, his lips spreading into a hungry grin.

And all Theon did was give a whimper and nod.


End file.
